'The Guru' of stupefying sleaze

In Hollywood's bad-old-days of sexism and studio power, if a plum role went to an actress without visible talent or spectacular beauty, wags would ask rude questions about the intimate relationship which led to her otherwise inexplicable success.

In the case of Jimi Mistry, the unknown star of the rancid disaster "The Guru," gossips may wonder not only which one of the producers he's dating, but they might also feel uncertain of the gender identity of whoever thrust this charisma-free fumbler into such a prominent role. I neither know nor care whether Mr. Mistry identifies himself as gay in his private life, but he certainly hints at flamboyant effeminacy in this bizarre movie – and that's a huge problem when he plays a character who's supposedly irresistible to gorgeous, sexually voracious women, and who establishes himself as a celebrated expert on heterosexual intimacy.

Originally known as "The Guru of Sex," the movie follows a cheerful immigrant from India to Manhattan, where he hopes to use his skills as a dance instructor (inspired by John Travolta's moves in "Grease") to win worldwide stardom. Instead, he finds himself unwittingly auditioning for a reptilian porno producer (Michael McKean) who casts him opposite a sleek and good-natured sex star (Heather Graham) who's mastered the challenge of shedding her clothes on cue. Our hero wrecks his career in "adult" films when he can't perform his manly role for the camera, but he maintains an innocent friendship with his sweet, wide-eyed co-star.

Meanwhile, his work as a waiter leads him to substitute for a drunken guru who's been hired to enlighten a dinner party of effete society types. Unable to think of anything suitably spiritual to say, our hero begins repeating platitudes about sex he heard from his friendly, neighborhood porn star, Ms. Graham. This leads to a wild night of passion with a bored, spiritual seeker among the socialites (Marisa Tomei), who successfully promotes Mr. Mistry to her elite crowd as "the Guru of Sex." To keep up this charade, he steals more nuggets of sexual insight from Ms. Graham, who cherishes her platonic pal while simultaneously pretending with her rugged firefighter fiance that she's a devout Catholic virgin.

Director Daisy von Scherler Mayer (best known for the amusing independent comedy "Party Girl" with Parker Posey) makes a half-hearted attempt to turn this silly plot into a "culture clash" comedy: In India, the hero sees his life through the prism of cheesy Hollywood musicals; in New York, he sees America (and all the Americans he meets) as participants in a cheesy, bouncy "Bollywood" (Made-in-Bombay) musical. In India, he delights the elderly students in his dancing school with a touch of Yankee glamour (gleaned from the movies); and in New York, he charms swooning blue stockings with exotic references to the Wisdom of the East.

In spite of this silly plot and a shallow screenplay, the movie might have escaped complete collapse with a suitably magnetic star who projects indestructible likeability – a younger, Hindustani Jackie Chan could have done the trick. Instead, Mr. Mistry (whose only previous major film role occurred in the intensely melodramatic and critically acclaimed British feature "East is East") tries much, much too hard and projects over-eager, gee-whiz, frenetic phoniness rather than ordinary-guy decency.

His unfortunate co-stars attempt to match his shrill insincerity: Marisa Tomei gets an impressive opportunity to display her spectacularly well-toned and athletic body, but never gets to exercise her acting muscles at all. Heather Graham, who played a disturbingly similar part as a childlike porno actress in "Boogie Nights," should have turned down this career-threatening embarrassment. Instead, she sails through her pathetic part with a "what-the-heck, where's-my-check" recklessness that suggests she can't wait to finish the shoot.

English producers Eric Fellner and Tim Bevan have put together a series of entertaining recent films ("Notting Hill," "About a Boy," "Bridget Jones' Diary") that highlight the contrast between easy sex and difficult romance. Their two most recent variations on that ever-popular theme ("40 Days and 40 Nights" and now, heaven help us, "The Guru") sink the message about the wholesome, redemptive power of love under a tidal wave of smut and sleaziness.

There's nothing even vaguely titillating about the joyless strip-teases and graphic references in this misguided mess. The "R" Rating (for loads of rough, raunchy material) should warn away children and all other life forms. The consistent ineptitude of its execution moves "The Guru" well beyond the status of mere mediocrity and brings us dangerously close to worst-of-the-year territory. ONE STAR.